Danny the Dog
Danny was a chocolate colored golden retriever. This was an odd occurrence because as one would most likely expect, golden retrievers are typically colored--as their breed would not suggest--yellow. Not bright yellow like a daffodil, but a dark pale yellow like aged parchment.
His coloration was quite a shock to his parents, or at least it would have been had his parents been sentient creatures instead of dogs. being dogs, they were quite unconcerned and didn't care in the slightest that their chocolate colored bouncing baby golden retriever pup was, well, chocolate colored. They didn't care. Big Dan (Danny's father's name if it wasn't Digsby) would have raised a suspicious eyebrow in the direction of Danny's mother (whose name was unknown because she was a stray, though her ears often perked when she heard a passing motorcycle, raising a suspicion that she was named a sound instead of a proper dog-type name).
Big Dan, however, didn't raise an eyebrow. Not because he didn't possess an eyebrow or was incapable of raising one, but because being a dog of limited intellect, it didn't occur to him to question it. This worked in the favor of Danny's mother because, in fact, Danny was not his father's son, if you know what I mean. This is to say that while he was indeed his father's son, he wasn't the son of Big Dan. Shocking, yes. Amazing, perhaps. But did anyone care? No, of course not, they were dogs.
At least no one cared for three years and seven months. There was speculation on part of the villagers, but no one really bothered about it too much. But as I was saying, after three years and seven months something unusual happened. Danny's legs fell off.
Oh ho, thought Big Dan, though he was unsure why he thought this. Danny's mother sweated in the way that worried dogs sweat--she panted. Danny's father mistook this as a come-on and began to make advances at her but stopped as soon as he noticed that she was unreceptive towards them.
Danny's mother glanced at his father sheepishly. Nervously. And then she laughed. It ruined the moment. Danny's father knew something important was at hand but the sudden outburst was too much to take and he stormed off. A small storm. Dogs of that size don't raise much dust and certainly no clouds that are capable of thunder, lightning, high winds and rain. Just a bit of dust. His attitude slammed the non-existent door behind him and he padded over to the water bowl.
My water bowl, he thought. The bowl that I decided to share with her and she, she, well I don't really know what. He padded back in.
Danny's mother was cooking grilled cheese sandwiches. She did so without the benefit of a grill, cheese, or bread. In reality the sandwiches were just kibble that underwent a clever renaming and excellent marketing process. No one knew that it was just kibble, not even Danny's mother. But again, they were just dogs, and they lived with the advantage of not having to live in the realm of reality when they so desired, which they often did. As she was flipping the kibble, to complete the grilling and thoroughly melt the cheese that wasn't there, she heard the non-existent door open and saw Big Dan walk in.
"I'm sorry I laughed," she didn't say.
"I'm sorry as well," Big Dan didn't reply, "but I understand how situations like this can make one nervous."
"Situations like what," Danny's mother failed to question.
"Situations like... like what just happened," Big Dan didn't say, but swished his tail in a dramatic motion to emphasize the point he would have been making had he been making a point.
"Oh that," is how Danny's mom didn't respond, "That was your fault you know."
"How in the name of the all powerful and ever mindful poodle was it my fault," sniffed Big Dan inaudibly.
"You are the male, so it was your fault!"
Big Dan began to howl. This startled him so much that he started to wag his tail and ran around sniffing things, paying particular attention to a strange looking rock. Once satisfied that the rock was not a threat to him he straightened the tie he wasn't wearing and began to respond. "Maude, you are the one at fault here, I have.."
"Yes, I am calling you Maude from this day on."
Big Dan didn't scratch his rear like human males do but instead carried on, "Maude," he started with a big grin, "what do you have to say?"
"Oh right, well, you see, Danny, your Danny, your son, he... isn't your son..."
Big Dan stood on all fours with a puzzled yet thoughtful expression. "Hang on," he didn't begin, "when I was at the kennel..."
"Yes. Vinnie the great dane... you know how it is when a doggie like myself gets lonely... I needed loving and Vinnie was there with grilled cheese sandwiches"
"Woof," Big Dan slipped and the corrected himself. "Vinnie? No. Vinnie? Oh my dog Maude, what have you done? Vinnie died of the rabies!"
"Noooooooo," howled Maude.
"Afraid so, " sniffed Big Dan.
Just then, two block over Danny (after much crawling to get there) had bitten someone's head off. The next day the entire family was put to sleep.